Mondays
by German Jerky
Summary: Spoiler for those who haven't seen later episodes Roy's been having a bit of trouble after a friends death. Of course, Riza's there for him. Royai, fluff, rated for possible later chapters. R


'_Ello all, thank you for joining me on this sad attempt to try and write a short Full Metal Alchemist fic. This is, in fact, a short little fluff between Roy and Riza. xD All of you who are jealous can just go eat a sock, cause Riza and Roy are 'da bomb. So yea… Just a short story I thought up while I was bored… Hope you like it. I'd appreciate your reviews and what not._

_Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own the characters, or the series of Full Metal Alchemist… I wish, but I don't. _

_On that note, enjoy._

Stave one: Mondays

The alarm went off as his hand collided with the clock.

Monday.

It was the day that Colonel Roy Mustang hated. The day that ended such bliss of relaxation, and started a new, more disliked one. Five more days of hell, and then he would be free again. But still, that alone was not enough comfort for him. Nor were the endless reminders that it was this day, that he only had this many left, before he was free once again.

And it was on Mondays that the most irritable things happened to him, and him alone. His staff would drag on about his behavior, but they always did. It was just the way he was, in his opinion. However, they did so more than on Mondays than any other. And it was this that led him to believe they seemed to do it, _just_ because they knew it affected him.

But it was nothing he couldn't handle. With a snap, all save one, the lot of them would go back to doing their work, like good soldiers.

And it was with that satisfaction of his authority, with his power, as well as the determination to rise to the top, that forced him to rise every morning, and dress. It was with this that kept him going through the day. That, or a bullet to the head by his 'loyal' Hawkeye.

These thoughts passed through him slowly, each word stated more thoughtfully then the last. It was against his will that he contemplate them; try to find the reason why exactly he had the patience, or the time, to get up. He had more important things to do, then sign paper after paper, hour after hour, of his week days. While he was inside, writing away, filling out paperwork, he could be elsewhere. He could be trying to find out who exactly it was that killed Maes.

The pictures swam before his very eyes, as he sat, motionless, in his empty bed, in his empty flat, and he sighed, before finally sitting up.

Feet were placed on the cold floor, and a hand rose, sliding through the silky, ebony hair. Darkened gaze was set sternly on the wall, and he sat like that for a long moment, before he rose, stretching.

For him, Mondays were always routine.

* * *

The sun that filtered in through the window above the Colonel shifted, as the clouds did, casting shadows over the desk, as well as the large office. The afternoon sun was high overhead, tilting lightly towards the West, and casting shadows to form in the East. The office was quiet, the sound of pens, as well as papers being moved about. Gaze was set sternly on the newspaper in front of him, determined not to finish the pile of work on the center of his desk.

It had been silent for at least an hour, and it seemed all of them were waiting to know who would break the ice. And then…

"Colonel, finish your work."

Of course, the words were nothing more than a reminder of his 'duty' he had to uphold. Paper work. A sigh escaped him, and he lowered the newspaper, gazing from behind the print to meet the intense gaze of his Lieutenant. Of course, he should have known she would force him to complete the pile. Her eyes narrowed lightly, and she didn't move a muscle, waiting for whatever he threw back at her.

Unfortunately, it never came.

He folded the paper, carefully, pulling open the drawer in his desk, setting it in there, before closing it. He shifted, sitting up in his chair, pulling forward the thick pile, picking up the pen that lay forgotten on the wooden desk. Gaze rose to see all of them staring at him. No calling her bluff? No smart answer, or quick retort about how they didn't pay him enough to do this?

He smirked, slowly, gazing slipping from Hawkeye, to Havoc, to Fuery, to Breda, and then Falman. He ignored them, turning towards the paperwork, noting the silence in the room, and broke it with a quick, "Get back to work."

* * *

Amazingly, he had finished before the day ended. Of course, Hawkeye had disappeared for a few minutes, stating she would get more. When she returned, the Colonel seemed less willing to cooperate. And of course, eventually, after many threats of shooting, he finally started on it. Despite this, he wasn't silenced, muttering under his breath in attempt to get rid of the unwanted work. Only when the bell tolled five did he quiet, trying to finish the work so that, in return for the next day, he wouldn't have as much.

The first to leave was Havoc, followed by Falman, then Breda and Fuery, who left together.

At last, only himself and the first Lieutenant were left in the comfortable silence, the quiet breathing of the small dog, Black Hayate, at her feet.

His hand ached, as he set the pen down. A sigh escaped him, and he leaned back, tilting back into the chair, eyes staring up at the dim light filtering into the room. It was getting late… Of course, he'd stay to finish. Eyes closed, unknown weariness taking over him. Only when he heard the quiet, yet strong words of his Lieutenant, did he look up. She was staring at him, brow furrowed into a light frown. The look didn't suite her.

"Staying late again, Colonel?"

He stared for a long moment, a blank look upon his face, before he grinned smugly, shrugging.

"I suppose. Don't want you blowing my head off now, do I?"

"You've been quiet, Colonel…"

"So? A man can't bask in silence without getting his head bitten off?"

"Something's wrong… Isn't there?"

At her words, his grin slowly dissipated, monotone features set sternly, falling silent. Something was wrong? With him? Nonsense… The great Flame Alchemist was fine. At least, that's what he thought. Brow rose lightly, and his features turned placid, nose rising as he gave off the impression of someone who was too good to care.

"I don't know what you mean."

Both fell silent as the night set in, and the lights were turned on. Still, Hawkeye refused to speak again, continuing with her paperwork. The wretched pen, which he had come to loath, was once more picked up, and he began to work on the stack. The minutes seemed to tick bye, and soon enough, the bell rang a few more times. It was on the eight toll that the man rose, stretching with a quiet yawn.

"Walk with me, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir."

The slight frown was hidden beneath the docile façade that the Lieutenant so usually wore, as she packed her things, turning towards the Colonel, who was already ready. With Black Hayate trailing at their heels, the two left together.

"Sir-"

"Roy… My name's Roy, Hawkeye. We're not on duty."

The shallow sigh that escaped Riza Hawkeye was that of frustration. He was avoided her question, both knew of course. The dog, which had taken the lead of the two, barked happily as he spun around, tongue lolling at the two. It was here she decided to speak once more, ignoring his statement, and making it clear that she wouldn't call him Roy. It was against the rules…

"_Sir_, what's bothering you?"

There was a long pause, before the Colonel let out a long, troubled sigh. Brow furrowed lightly, and as usual, he avoided her question.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Hawkeye."

Hand immediately went to the gun at her side, fingertips wrapping around the hilt, cinnamon gaze narrowing lightly. "I can make it my business, sir."

He chuckled, quietly, the sound masking the pain efficiently enough to leave her puzzled. The colonel was a complex man, nothing simple in the matter. It was hard to describe him, when it came down to the point.

He never had a chance to reply something smart, as they found themselves outside the Lieutenant's flat. He halted; gaze rising towards the door that entered into the woman's somewhat base. That, in his opinion, was sad. Their flats were more like homeland bases. Thoughts were pushed aside as gaze met her own, and he frowned, turning to face her. It was here he decided to…

"Sir, if there's something wrong, you can tell me."

Words were stopped as his lips parted, and he shifted, blinking slowly. He stared for a long moment at her, surveying the woman's features. How long had she stayed by his side, again? Far too many. And with nothing more to look forward to than a promotion, or himself making it to the top. What was in it for her? Features softened, and he sighed, quietly.

"I know, Hawkeye. It's just work and… Maes." Features were shifted to a light frown as his Lieutenant sighed, gaze lowering for a long moment, before rising.

"It's understandable, sir. It's not easy, losing a friend."

Lovely. Now he'd gone and… He moved closer. A sigh escaped him as his hand gripped her shoulder lightly, causing her to become uneasily tense. He inwardly chuckled, as gaze met her own, and he smiled lightly.

"Don't bring this upon yourself, Hawkeye. My problems are my own problems, and I can handle them."

Her features shifted to a well hidden pained one, as if she was disappointed in his lie. Of course, she knew him better than that. He didn't want it that way, of course he wanted… What did he want?

"It's my job, sir. It's what I have to do, whether-"

"And may I remind you that my position outranks yours?"

She glared, silently, gaze staying locked onto her own, and she seemed as though she was going to retort something docile, something sarcastic, but no… Her features softened, and she sighed, hand rising to grip his off of her shoulder. She held it, for a moment, before she leaned up, lips brushing his cheek lightly.

"If you ever need to talk about it, you know I'm here."

That, of course, surprised him. Eyes widened lightly, staring at her as she retreated, letting go of his hand. Instinct seemed to draw him forward, left hand falling on her shoulder, and right gently cupping her chin, gloved finger tilting it lightly upwards, so she could look at him. He smiled, wearily, and sighed at the look of regret came over the woman's features, and she refused to meet his gaze.

"We can't. You know it's against the rules, and-"

"Screw the rules… They won't stop me. They never have. Besides, I've always known that you'd be there. You were in Ishbal, you are now."

Lips lightly brushed hers, and he nearly collapsed as her hands slid up, grasping at his shoulders as she pressed more weight into the kiss. Until when they broke apart, did she meet his gaze, staring up at him. He gave a soft smile, and pulled back, hands rising to lift her hands from his shoulders, letting go and stepping back.

"Have a good evening, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

And with that and a grin, he turned on his heel, and started off with a tuneless song in his head.

* * *

The alarm went off as his hand collided with the clock.

Monday.

It was the day Colonel Roy Mustang loved. The day that ended such lonely trails and started a new, more enjoyable one. The day where nothing seemed to go wrong, where, despite his staffs attempts and efforts, they couldn't seem to bring his spirits down, even though they teased and tormented the man until their noses were at the fearful ends of a gloved fingertip, ready to brush against another within any moment. The day where he would comply and finish his work without so much as a complaint… At least, until he was half way finished.

These thoughts passed through him slowly, each word stated more thoughtfully then the last. It was against his will that he contemplate them; try to find the reason why exactly he had the patience, or the time, to get up. It was because of, as of a few weeks ago, that afternoon had changed his entire outlook on the day, he thought.

The memories replayed before his very eyes, and he smiled, before he sat up.

Feet were placed on the cold floor, and a hand rose, sliding through the silky, ebony hair. Darkened gaze was set silently on the wall, as if seeking purpose, and he sat like that for a long moment, before he rose, stretching with a quiet yawn.

For him, Mondays were never routine.

Fin.

_And that, meh friends, is the end. Please review, I could use some constructive criticizing… But yea, I'm pondering on whether or not to make a second chapter, perhaps in first person point of view… Hell, I'm wondering if I should continue… R&R, please, tell me your thoughts. xD_


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